Craving Me, Desiring You Read online

  Craving Me, Desiring You

  C.M. Stunich

  Sarian Royal

  Craving Me, Desiring You

  Copyright © C.M. Stunich 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For information address Sarian Royal Indie Publishing, 1863 Pioneer Pkwy. E Ste. 203, Springfield, OR 97477-3907.

  www.sarianroyal.com

  ISBN-10: 1938623746 (eBook)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-938623-74-5 (eBook)

  "Triple M" Name Used With Permission From Melissa, Mireya, and Megan of "Triple M Bookclub"

  Cover art and design © Amanda Carroll and Sarian Royal

  "Optimus Princeps" and "Ultra Condensed Sans Serif" Fonts © Manfred Klein

  "Ink In The Meat" Font © Billy Argel

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the author.

  to first love. to last love. and everything in between. to hearts that sing and flicker, whose words sound like wind chimes in the night. to you. thank you for reading this happily ever after.

  Chapter 1

  Austin

  Beck is guffawing at me from across the damn room, and I don't know why. I scowl at him as I heft my sledgehammer up and take careful aim at a nearby wall.

  “Your momma drop you on your damn head or somethin'?” he asks me through his raucous chuckling. “'Cause sometimes I think you're the stupidest motherfucker I ever laid my dang eyes on.” I swing the tool at the drywall and grin big as it echoes with a satisfying crack. Pieces of old wallpaper tumble to the floor in a heap of dust. I think there are poodles or some shit on there, but I ain't looking too hard. This whole damn wall is coming down today. Nine weeks we been working on this fucking house, and it isn't even close to bein' done. This here, this just ain't a clubhouse, a place to hold meetings and fly our flag. This is a home for the unwanted, the men and women who don't quite fit here or there. This is a place where Amy's going to be resting her beautiful head, and I want it to be perfect. Even if I'm still unsure about it. I don't like to do things in half measures.

  “And why's that?” I ask, wishing I'd just picked up the damn phone. Amy's called twice today, and I haven't answered either call. I don't know why. I guess I am just a stupid asshole. Beck runs his fingers through his red hair, grinning bigger than I've ever seen before. He's always been a happy-go-lucky son of a bitch, but ever since he picked up this girl, Tease, he's gotten even worse. Now he's a smug happy-go-lucky son of a bitch, strutting around here like a rooster that's just found the chicken coop. I ain't never seen Beck so happy. Used to think the asshole was into Melissa, but well … Melissa is into the President of Seventy-seven Brothers. Big fucking time. And Beck and Tease are like this.

  “Why are you avoiding her phone calls?” Gaine asks, baffled at my behavior. He has more patience than I'll ever have. I take another swing at the wall, and I'm not sure I have an answer for him. It's not a question if I love Amy or not – that's not even up for discussion. I couldn't even imagine walking away from her sweet smile or her quiet laughter, the way she tucks her silken hair behind her ear. But I'm adjusting. Things are all so fucked up. Even this clubhouse thing. It makes sense for us, especially after losing so many of our own people, but it's also terrifying the ever living crap outta me. I ain't gonna lie about that.

  “I'm not avoiding 'em,” I say as I step back and take a deep breath. This construction shit is not easy. I managed to get a loan for the clubhouse though, ain't no such luck on getting extra money to put in all the work it needs. We're going to be paying for this with blood, sweat, and tears. “I just didn't answer them.”

  “Like that isn't the same damn thing?” Beck asks as he takes a swig of his water, pausing to pour some of the liquid onto his forehead with a sigh. The droplets run down his face and splatter against the plywood on the floor. We haven't gotten around to replacing that yet. It's on the tail end of a very long list, one that we're chipping away at nice and slow. “You ain't about to tuck tail and run, are you Sparks?” Beck asks me as he sets his water down, and swipes his hands down his face. He's smiling, but the look in his eyes says he isn't joking around. I scowl at him, and don't bother to answer the question. He knows me better than that.

  I take another swing and the rest of the wall comes crashing down, wood beams dangling from the ceiling like spiders. I rub my arm across my face and set down the sledgehammer, moving to the window to gaze out at the empty street. This neighborhood is nothing but a rundown shit hole, full of squatters and drug addicts. There aren't any neighbors to complain about the roar of motorcycles or the raucous shouting, the comings and goings of a few dozen folk. We're turning this piss soaked house from a place to shoot up into a fucking home. Transformations. Life is all about frigging transformations. And nobody tells you how Goddamn difficult they are.

  “Austin,” Gaine says, this note of authority ringing clear in his voice. Ever since we sat down as a group and made him the fucking Treasurer, he's been all up in arms about this or that, shit that doesn't even have anything to do with money. I throw up my hands and pull my cellphone from my pocket.

  “I'm makin' the damn call,” I tell them as I push through the screen door in the back and walk through the weeds and half-brown grass. There are broken pots everywhere, along with colorful plants that look like somebody really cared about this place at one point. I glance over my shoulder, letting my eyes trail up to the third floor and the old ass windows. “Fuck me runnin',” I whisper under my breath, running my hands up the sides of my face. I haven't shaved in a couple of days, but Amy seems to like it. Or at least I think she does. Sometimes, I'm too afraid to ask what those cute little half-smiles mean. I dial my baby up and wait.

  “Austin,” she breathes, answering the call on a sharp intake of air. I feel the word straight down to my toes – most especially in the area of my crotch. “How's your day been?” Amy doesn't wait for me to answer, just continues on like she can't bear to hold in the news. “I've heard the most marvelous thing today.” Amy pauses abruptly, and I can just imagine her squeezing her eyes shut tight. “But I can't tell you. It's not my news to share.”

  I laugh. How could I not? Amy makes me want to smile, to see life in a different light. You ever hear the phrase rose colored glasses? That's how she tints the world for me.

  “Then why you callin' me, sugar?” I ask, examining the fresh white paint on the outside of the house. This here's a historical wonder, apparently, and we had to take the high route. No vinyl siding for this baby. We had to sand down and repair the original wood siding. During the act, all I could think was that it was a pain in the ass. Right now, I'm feelin' pretty prideful. “Today's your day off. You shouldn't even be thinking of me.” I can hear Amy smiling when she next speaks.

  “A day off without you isn't much of a day off at all.” She pauses. “I'm having a good time with the girls, but I miss you. Is that stupid?” I turn away from the house and poke at a bit of broken statue with my boot. Her words do two opposite things to me. On the one hand, I want to jump for joy and clack my damn heels. On the other, my heart starts to beat and this sickening creep of doubt reaches inside my chest. It's started happening to me lately, on and off. Ever since Kent died. Since you killed him, Sparks. When I walked into that room and saw Amy bleeding, I just went bat shit. I won't apologize for that. Still, the unrest that's been plaguing us ever since is getting old.

  “Not stupid at all, sugar. The job site's just not the same without you.” I smirk and
bring up a lurid little image of me and Amy pressed into the tiny downstairs bathroom. Hot damn. I keep thinking that at some point, the sex won't be as good or I won't find Amy as hot, but it never happens. At least not on my end. There's always the chance that little Miss Amy could get sick and tired of my ugly, ol' ass. “But hey, absence makes the heart grow fonder.” I grin and switch the phone to my other ear. “And the cock stiffer. I hope you're ready for me when I get back.” Amy chuckles as I glance over my shoulder. My friends have a nasty habit of sneaking up on me when I'm not looking. Nosier than a couple of old cat ladies. Christ in Heaven.

  “Austin,” Amy says again, keeping her voice calm and focused. “I called you earlier today because I wanted to ask you something … ” She trails off, and I just know she's biting at that glossy lower lip of hers. I'm starting to learn all of Amy's habits – the way she talks with her hands, the way her hair falls when she tucks it behind her ear – so even though she's not standing here, I can see her. Sounds lame as hell, right? I walk in a small circle, tripping over a cluster of rocks that probably served as a fire pit at some point. I ain't paying attention, and that's not good for anybody or anything. “But you didn't answer, so I … I made an executive decision.” Amy clears her throat, and I feel guilty for avoiding her call.

  “Dish the dirt, sugar,” I tell her as Beck appears in the open doorway, folding his arms over his broad chest. He's grinning, as usual. I flip him off and push some sandy hair away from my face. Might be time to cut that fuckin' shit.

  “I bought a bike, Austin,” Amy breathes, and chills break out down my spine. “It wasn't planned,” she rushes, trying to explain as my heart picks up speed and begins to thump inside my chest. “We went looking and it … it just chose me.” She sucks in a deep breath. “Please don't be angry.” Despite everything, I find myself smiling. My little Southern belle has turned into a real biker chick, huh?

  “Hey, if the pull of the road's not the most powerful thing there is, then I'm a lyin' man, and my momma raised me better than that. You take her for a ride yet?” I ask, hoping the answer's no. I don't know why, but I feel like I've gotta be there for the moment Amy Cross takes off on her first ride, bursts through the sunset and disappears down an open stretch of road. That there's a monumental moment.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Sparks, but I seem to recall you saying the only thing you'd like to ride cross-country would be a she. Well, the only thing I would like to ride cross-country is a he. Henceforth, you shall refer to my ride as Sir.”

  Chapter 2

  Amy

  I've always enjoyed the twilight. The rippling purple colors of the night sky clash with the bright orange and pink of the setting sun, giving rise to the belief that out there, somewhere, there's a whole other world ready to be explored. I simply don't see how someone could stand here and look at this ethereal beauty without being completely and utterly convinced of an afterlife. I don't pretend to know what it entails, only that one exists. Beauty like this simply never dies.

  I sweep some hair away from my face and keep my book clutched tight in my hand. I ponder the last words in my chapter as I examine the clouds floating weightless above me.

  “Sali, I'll never be good enough for you,” Glance Serone says as he gazes out the floor to ceiling windows in my new apartment. The apartment that he bought for me, where he laid me out and made the sweetest love to me. Glance. The world's biggest asshole, and the only man capable of melting my heart.

  My absolute favorite book in the world has a new sequel, I've got a new bike, and the only man capable of melting my heart is riding straight towards me on the back of his motorcycle. I adjust myself on the seat, enjoying the comforting squeak of leather on leather. Yes, that's right. You heard me: Amy Allison Cross is wearing leather pants. And they look quite good on me, thank you very much.

  A soft breeze kisses my face, its gentleness at odds with the rough growl of the boys' bikes as they move down the road towards us, sliding into the gravel parking lot like a pack of wolves. And my lover is the alpha, I think with a flurry of goose bumps across my bare arms. The night is warm, the remnants of the summer sun kissing my skin like butterflies. I close my book and set it aside, swinging myself off my bike as Austin skids to a stop and grins big at me.

  “Well, hello, Sir¸” Austin drawls, moving towards me and breezing past like he hardly notices me. My mouth twitches to match his smile as I spin after him and watch while Austin, Beck, and Gaine circle my new ride like sharks. “Harley-Davidson. Can never go wrong with that.” Austin bends low and runs his hands over the shiny crimson paint. “A Sportster, huh?”

  “A Sportster Superlow,” Kimmi interjects, approaching with Mireya and Christy at her heels. Kimmi is beaming from ear to ear, her gold earrings catching the last rays of the setting sun as she pauses near the handlebars and touches her fingers to the chrome on the back of the mirror. “A perfect sized ride for Miss Amy, don't you think?”

  “And it was a steal, too,” Mireya drones, waving her hand dismissively. I notice she doesn't leave her new bike's side, pressing the length of her thigh against the metal for comfort. “Blah, blah, blah. Enough with the babble. Are we going to take it for a test drive or not?” She sounds angry, but I can tell it's all false bravado. Since she eloped with Gaine, Mireya's actually been fairly nice to me. I think we might manage to be friends one day.

  I twist my hands nervously and run my tongue over my lips. I know Austin and Kimmi's last hit made the club a lot of money, but then again, we just bought a house. I hope he isn't going to be angry with me. I take a step closer and watch his brown eyes raise to mine.

  He's still smiling.

  “What do you think?” I ask, waiting with nervous anticipation for Austin to close the gap between us and take me in his arms. I crave his touch even more now than I did before. The initial attraction still burns between us, but I can feel a deeper ache down below, something that tells me this will only get better with age. How can I possibly know if he feels the same? We've never actually said those words to one another. I love you.

  I spare a glance for Beck and Tease, making out like teenagers a few steps away from where I stand. They said it, and they've only just met, but that's okay. If I've learned anything from reading romance novels, it's that love never happens in quite the same way. Sometimes, it's a slow, burning ache, and others, it's a rapid-fire feast for the heart. I don't judge any form of love to be higher or lower than any other.

  I swing my gaze back to Austin just in time to see him moving towards me.

  “If Mireya says it's a good ride, then it's a good ride,” Gaine says with a smile, giving his new wife a come-hither look that makes her bristle and frown. But only on the outside. In her dark eyes, I can see it. Love. Love, love, love. It's blooming and blossoming all around us.

  I look up at Austin, shivering as he runs his fingers down my bare arms.

  “I think I remember tellin' you somethin' about pants,” he whispers against my ear. My eyes flutter closed and I swoon into his arms. Just like a heroine in one of my books. His body is rock hard and warm, and he smells like sweat and dirt. It's as decidedly delicious as it sounds. “As in, you should never wear 'em. I don't like obstacles in my way, sugar.”

  “But we're going for a ride,” I whisper as I lean back, pressing the full length of my body against his. I can feel Austin's erection grinding into my belly as I recline in his arms, letting my hair spill down my back as he presses his hot lips to my throat. Vaguely, I realize that some of the other Triple M'ers are catcalling at us from the edges of the parking lot, but I don't care. When I'm standing here, like this, nothing else matters. “You … you promised,” I moan, almost wishing that he hadn't.

  “Did I?” Austin asks, pulling back and steadying me on my feet. I touch my fingers to his dirty T-shirt, brushing some of the white dust from his shoulders. I keep my gaze on his pecs instead of on his face. I'm afraid that if I look up into those eyes, I'll start falling and I won't be able to catch
myself.

  “Ride first, fuck later,” Kimmi groans from behind Austin. “We don't all have partners for the evening.” I hear a burst of sharp, nervous laughter from Christy's throat, and I imagine that she's staring at the wild redhead in two parts fear and one part awe. I don't want to push my friend towards Kimmi simply because she's Austin's best friend, or even because they're the only two lesbians in the group, but they would make a cute couple …

  “Yeah, yeah, we hear ya,” Beck chortles, clapping his hand on his friend's back. Kimmi narrows her green eyes at him and adjusts her jacket on her shoulders as Austin pulls away from me with a sigh. I try not to pout, but it's oh so difficult to let go of a man who simply looks like Adonis incarnate – only a little blonder, and with slightly less curly hair. “Besides, nothing gets the blood pumpin' like a good, long ride.”

  “And how do I know you're not actually referring to the motorcycles?” Kimmi asks with a pursed mouth. She licks her tongue over her red lips and gestures at the back of her bike while Beck laughs and swings Tease up into his arms like she weighs nothing. I think of the exciting news she shared with me today, and I can hardly keep the words contained. Tease is pregnant! I want to shout, because who doesn't love a baby? But she hasn't told Beck yet, so I keep my lips sealed. She's promised to tell him tonight. I smile at them and for the first time in my life, I don't have to wonder what it's like to fall in love so fast, to race through the world at a dizzying speed and land in the universe's most deliciously decadent trap. “Christy, you're welcome to ride with me if you want to come?” Kimmi asks, acting suspiciously nonchalant.

  My friend shakes her head and smiles, her blonde hair falling to obscure her face.

  “No, that's alright. I'm going to hang out by the pool.” Christy glances up sharply and catches my gaze. I imagine that I might be imitating my mother's best oh, no you don't look, but I can't help it. I find that the more time I spend away from her, the more I recognize her better qualities and begin to imitate them. I imitate nothing of my father's.